


Tulips

by mr_dr_felicia



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Coma, F/M, fluff i guess?, infinte eyerolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5127884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mr_dr_felicia/pseuds/mr_dr_felicia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wirt reads a certain news article.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Parallel

**Author's Note:**

> Ordinary font: Wirt’s perspective/ Beatrice’s thoughts
> 
> Italicised: Wirt’s thoughts/ Beatrice’s perspective

**Aberdale, February 11**

Wirt woke up to his head aching.

 

He sat up and sniffled, looking out the window. It was snowing outside. That would explain the cold then.

 

After one last yawn, Wirt rolled out of bed and straight onto the _very_ cold hardwood floors. A shudder ran up his spine at the contact and he scrambled for his slippers (which were under his study table) before making his bed.

 

The house was still eerily silent as he worked, the scarce noise of the floorboards creaking the only sounds that filled Wirt’s ears. He was more than used to the silence though. Waking up earlier than everyone else had always been a trait he shared with his Dad—the real one, not Greg’s dad. It wasn’t like Wirt hated his stepdad though; he was getting along with him a lot better now since last Halloween.

 

Grabbing a discarded sweater and jacket, Wirt pulled them on before opening his bedroom door and heading for the front door. It was even colder outside the confines of his room. A sneeze wracked his body the moment he entered the living room though, the sound almost loud enough to mask the light bang of the morning newspaper hitting the front door.

 

 _I’m gonna need to take some cold medicine after breakfast._ Wirt muffled another sneeze in the sleeve of his jacket before unlocking the front door and picking up the rolled up newspaper.

 

Wirt hardly remembered his real Dad’s death by now, hardly remembered what kind of dad he really was, but he did remember reading the morning newspaper with him every morning. That was the only memory he really remembered that concerned his Dad, actually.

 

Coffee was also one of the things he remembered during those mornings, and since he’d turned thirteen three years ago his Mom had allowed him to drink more than just curious sips from her mug, had started making a cup for himself almost every morning. He still diluted it with more than enough milk and sugar to make the bitter coffee-taste almost non-existent, but it left him with a slight buzzing feeling in his limbs every time he finished drinking a whole cup of it.

 

It was quick work, and soon Wirt was perching on the couch, newspaper in one hand and a cup of very sweet coffee in another. He took a sip of the warm beverage before looking down at the newspaper’s headline; and instantly regretted it.

 

**Horrible Fire Leaves Girl in Coma– by: Tess Davidson**

_Beatrice Lynskey, age 16, was last seen by neighbours storming out after an argument before being found by Aberdale Police beneath a wooden beam last February 10.The horrible fire that lead to this tragedy has yet to be given a cause, but a magnifying glass that was supposedly used to start a fire was found in Beatrice Lynskey’s room, leaving much to be investigated further._

_The girl herself is still in an Intensive Care Unit in St. Jerome’s Hospital, a serious head wound causing her to fall into a coma. The fire was luckily stopped from spreading any farther than the Lynskey household and has left the remaining family members in relatively better condition._

A picture of a girl strapped to a gurney was taking up most of the page. People were crowding about around her: nurses blocking any of the cameramen from getting too close, bystanders milling around to spot a glimpse of the girl, and a few kids standing in the street, a plastic ball at their feet. She had bloody gauze wrapped around most of her head too, making it almost impossible for anyone to recognise her.

 

But Wirt did; instantly. The coffee he’d barely swallowed was fighting to rise up to his nostrils before he managed to swallow it, setting the mug down and picking up the newspaper with both hands.

 

It really was her. He’d seen her just once in her human form, right before leaving the Unknown. And now there she was: her red hair still as recognisable as it was before, even in black and white.

 

Wirt found that he didn’t know what to do. He was overjoyed of course, because seeing such a dear friend after so long did make you feel at the least a bit happy. But he was scared too. He’d seen Quincy Endicott’s gravestone in the cemetery, and after a serious talk with Greg, had worked out a meaning to the Unknown.

 

The Unknown was a sort of Purgatory. Wirt had only read about them once, but had realized their connection as being an in-between-place. Greg had protested to it at first, but after seeing Endicott’s gravestone himself, had gradually come to an understanding. He still talked about the people they met there like they were still alive, but Greg had a sober tinge to his voice as he talked about them.

 

Wirt had immediately felt guilty for ever telling him the truth about it ever since then. He was only six, after all.

 

It was because of this reason that Wirt was afraid. He’d seen Beatrice and how happy she seemed back in the Unknown, and he was afraid that if he did tell Greg about her, the boy would want to visit. And what if she did die?

 

No, he would just have to keep this to himself. Wirt couldn’t get his little brothers hopes that high then bring them crashing down again.

 That didn’t mean he couldn’t visit Beatrice himself, though.

 

* * *

 

The wind bit painfully into Wirt’s face as he walked down the road. He’d told his parents that he was going to Jason Funderberker’s house to watch a movie just so he could get to the hospital. He would have to call him later and tell him about that. Honestly, it still surprised him that they wound end up being friends in the long run.

 

It was a quick walk from where his parents dropped him off and the hospital, and he’d managed to salvage some of his saved up allowance to pay for a bunch of pretty orange tulips. He felt stupid as he walked down the street though, what with people staring.

 

Wirt shook his head. This wasn’t about him. Beatrice was in a coma, the least he could do was visit.

 

When he reached the hospital itself though, he felt his stomach constrict and he tightened his hold on the flowers. He pulled his scarf up higher around his neck before stepping into the reception area, the bright lights and familiar smells making his head spin.

 

“Um, excuse me?”

 

The nurse looked up from her gossip magazine, her eyes calculating and slightly bored. “Who’re you visiting?”

 

Wirt wondered how she knew he’d be visiting someone, then saw her eyes flicker to the tulips in his hand. “Beatrice Lynskey.”

 

“The girl in the coma? Sorry, but you can’t visit patients in the ICU. Better come again later.”

 

“B-but I need to see her. It’s really important.” Wirt knew he was one step from practically begging the nurse to let him in; but he didn’t care. This was probably the last time he could ever see her again, and he wasn’t going to let it pass him by.    

 

The woman looked at him once more before glancing at a plastic clipboard balanced on the receptionist’s desk. “The ICU’s on the third floor. Lynskey’s room is B17. You can only get as far as that door though.”

 

A weight that Wirt didn’t realize was weighing on him lifted with a small sigh. “Thanks.”

 

“Mhm. Now wait a second, write your name on that clipboard over there.” The woman gestured to another clipboard beside her.

 

Wirt weighed his options before writing.

 

“Quincey Endicott, huh? Wondered why you were so shy.” The nurse glanced down at the uneasy scrawl Wirt had written. “Go on, give your little girlfriend a visit.”

 

He tried not to look too guilty as she talked, and quickly made his escape before she realized he’d written another name. Because the elevator was too crowded, Wirt took the stairs, climbing them up two at a time.

 

The nearer he got the slower he became though, and soon he was standing frozen in the second flight of stairs. Did he really want this? Visiting Beatrice could be too much for him to handle, especially since it was inevitable that she would die in the end.

 

He was very tempted to turn back; to run back down the stairs and throw away the stupid flowers he knew wouldn’t mean anything to Beatrice now. But Beatrice had come back to help them in the Unknown, and she knew he would be angry at her too.

 

So he took another step.

 

* * *

**_The Unknown_ **

_Beatrice cracked one eye open, scowling as sunlight streamed from her window. She bit back a yawn as she pried her sister Jane’s arms from her waist and got up._

_All her other siblings were sound asleep in the large room they shared, the four beds they took up reaching the very walls. They would need another one for Ben and Melanie soon; they were the eldest in the family and would soon be too big to share with their younger siblings anymore._

_Or maybe they would find some other boy or girl and stay with them instead. Beatrice knew Melanie was old enough to get married now, Ben too. Beatrice herself knew that being the third child she would soon be expected to find a boy to take her in like Melanie was, and she was already dreading that day._

_“What’re you doing up so early? Go back to sleep, Beatrice.” Jane’s voice piped up from behind her, startling Beatrice out of her thoughts._

_“I’m going out for some fresh air.”_

_“Alright then. Don’t get us all cursed again,” Jane yawned before bundling herself up in the covers again, obviously enjoying the extra space Beatrice had left._

_She’d heard the humour in her little sister’s voice as she said it; but it still left goose bumps running up her arms. Getting cursed into a bluebird was one thing she never wanted to happen again._

_After changing into the thinnest and least bothersome dress she owned and pilling her hair on top of her head, Beatrice tiptoed out of the large room and out of the house. She wandered aimlessly in the sparse woods that surrounded the old grist mill before finally settling for a small clearing surrounded by trees._

_Her family was happier than she’d ever seen them before. She’d gotten along much better with her siblings, food was coming in a relatively steady flow, and most importantly, they weren’t bluebirds anymore._

_But something still felt odd. Things never became this perfect unless something very, very bad was supposed to happen later on._

_The thought made Beatrice scowl. No, this was just a slight reprieve before something horrible happens. This didn’t mean anything._

_She lay down on the grass, the early morning sunlight filtering through the leaves. Sleep was beginning to pull her eyelids shut when something rustled through the leaves and landed on her._

_It was an orange tulip._

_“What the…” Beatrice raised an eyebrow at the flower before looking around. She made sure to look up into the tree branches as well, making sure none of her brothers were hiding there, waiting to play a trick on her. When she spotted none, she lay back down, body stiff and slightly wary of her surroundings._

_When she was about to close her eyes again, another rustling reached her ears and a tulip fell onto her lap._

Alright, now she was freaked out.

_Getting up to go back inside, the tulips left on the ground, Beatrice hurried to leave the clearing. Just as she was about to step out though, a wind was starting to pull on her clothes._

_Soon, her hair was fluttering all about her, getting into her eyes and mouth. The wind seemed to be pulling her deeper into the woods._

_“Hey!” She was starting to call for help when the wind stopped._

_The tulips were still there though, the wind earlier hardly affecting them._

_And there were more now, forming a sort of path through the clearing and into the woods. Beatrice knew that it would be stupid to follow it, but what’s the worst that could happen? And so she followed the path, picking up the tulips as she went along and pilling them up in her arms._

_She was in deeper than she’d ever been since helping Wirt save Greg from the Beast a year ago when she finally spotted the last tulip._

_It was at the foot of a tall brick wall. Vines that sprouted small white flowers criss-crossed all about its cracked surface, and the tops of apple trees peeked from the top. The sight of the shiny red fruit made Beatrice’s mouth water._

_After a moment of deliberation, she left the tulips in a neat heap at the wall and hiked up her skirts to try and scale up the old garden wall. She placed a tentative step on one of the vines that grew along the wall and pulled herself up, the white flowers’ strong scent invading her nostrils._

_“Beatrice! Hey, what’cha doing up there?”_

_The little voice almost made Beatrice lose her grip. She hissed out a curse before turning, fighting to keep herself balanced on the vines. Her littlest brother was looking up at her, still partially shadowed by the trees that surrounded him._

_“Trying to get some apples,” Beatrice huffed before pulling at another vine. “Now, what are you doing up this early Michael?”_

_“Mom told me to call you. And that she’s making apple pie,” Michael skipped to the clearing where the wall sat. “C’mon! She’s sure to be finished now; we can climb for apples later.”_

_“Alright, alright,” Beatrice laughed before continuing. “Oh, and you know the strangest thing hap—”She was about to make for the ground when another voice reached her ears._

_“Hi, Beatrice,” it was Wirt._

* * *

 

 

The door wasn’t locked.

 

_No, it’s against the rules!_

_Oh come on! You’re really afraid of rules now? This is Beatrice we’re talking about._

_Well…_

Wirt dropped his head into his hands. Beatrice was just behind that door and he couldn’t even muster up enough courage to just push it open.

 

The doctors had left more than an hour ago, and by their sombre expressions Wirt knew Beatrice’s life wasn’t going to be very long if she didn’t wake up soon. And he was certain she wouldn’t.

 

Taking a gulp of air, Wirt pulled the scarf around his head tighter. Any CCTV cameras wouldn’t be able to recognize him now; and as far as he knew, no one named Quincey Endicott lived in Aberdale.

 

He held onto the flowers tighter before pushing the door open.

 

Then he saw her. She looked to be mostly wrapped in plastic tubes now, and hardly moved except for the weak rise and fall of her chest. Burns covered her exposed arms and a nasty gash behind her head was only a bloody stain on her bandages now. Her hair was shorter too, the long red locks burnt by the fire until they just reached her shoulders.  

 

Wirt felt his heart constrict at the sight of her. He’d walked himself through the motions of walking into her hospital room and leaving the flowers at the little metal table beside her.

 

But now she was actually _there_ , and Wirt couldn’t help but remember all the times they’d gone through. Knowing he only had a few minutes before _A. the doctors or any of the various nurses see him,_ and _B. his throat closes up and he can’t even begin to talk to her anymore._

 

So he did.

 

“Hi, Beatrice,”

 

* * *

 

_“Wirt?” Beatrice whispered, hardly believing it._

_“Hey, Beatrice! Come on, Mom’s waiting for us,” Michael interrupted her thoughts. He was starting to whine now, his voice rising into the shrill pitch he knew Beatrice hated._

 

_“W-wait a minute, Michael,” She craned her neck as high as it would go. “I’ve gotta do something first.”_

_With that she grabbed at another vine and pulled herself up, muscles trembling. It was odd, she’d always found climbing fairly easy._ Oh, well. Something other than normal was probably happening with Wirt returning to the Unknown anyway.

 

_“Sorry about your accident. I-I hope you make it.”_

_The hand that was about to pull her up slackened with shock, a shaky reply finding its way out of her mouth: “What accident? What’re you talking about, Wirt?”_

_He didn’t seem to notice though, and kept going. “Greg’s still talking about you a lot. Jason Funderburker is alright too – the frog, not the human. Though he’s fine too, I guess. We’re friends now, if you’re wondering.”_

Huh, go figure. _Beatrice thought._ I wonder how Sarah’s doing.

_“We’ve gotta get home, Beatrice.” Her little brother’s voice shook her out of her thoughts, the hands that held the vines loosening._

_“But I need to see him.” Beatrice looked down at her brother. “All those strange things that happened to me were supposed to lead me here!”_

_“We’ve gotta get home!”_

_Beatrice swallowed thickly before turning her attention back on the cracked brick wall. Her limbs were starting to grow heavier every second, and sweat poured down her face in rivers. She shakily put a hand above her and felt for a vine before pulling herself up._

_“And I just wanted to tell you that I know everything would seem perfect where you are now, but please just wake up. Please.”_

_And it was at that moment Beatrice’s foot slipped._

* * *

 

 

Tears were starting to well up in Wirt’s eyes as he talked. He knew he should be leaving now, before anyone sees him, but something made him stay.

 

“I know you must be really happy with your family all human again, but I’m asking you, please, please, just wake up. People are going to really miss you if you don’t,” he felt tears roll down his cheeks as he talked.

 

Wirt didn’t care. He just needed his friend to wake up.

 

* * *

 

 

_Her hands clawed for the vines and she made a grab for the first one that flew into her hand. She slammed into the wall as she skidded to a stop, the terrible noise of her dress ripping apart filling her ears._

_Blood coated her wounded palms as she made for the nearest vine again. She could vaguely hear Michael whining for her to come in the back of her mind._

_Everything seemed to be weighing her down. The white flowers’ scent had evolved into something sickly sweet and chemical. A thousand rocks seemed to be pulling her down to the ground. Air only came in the few deep breaths she took, making her vision slightly blurry._

_“C’mon Beatrice, I know you can do it. You got your family turned back into humans, what’s waking up?”_

_“Waking up?” Beatrice halted in her climbing. He’d been going on and on about her having to wake up, and she still wasn’t able to understand._ Was she actually dreaming this entire encounter?

_“Are you finally listening to me? We need to get home, Beatrice.” Michael’s words were met with uncaring ears._

_Beatrice took another vine into her hands. “I’m coming right down after this, Michael. You can go on ahead of me.” He didn’t leave._

_She pulled herself up. Only a bit more until she reached the edge._

* * *

 

He was holding her hand now, his hands trembling around her pale, freckled fingers.

 

Something far more embarrassing was about to escape his mouth when he clamped it shut. She wasn’t going to wake up; he should just face it and move on already.

 

“Goodbye Beatrice,” His grip loosened.

 

* * *

 

 

_“No!”_

_Her hands scrabbling for purchase, Beatrice pulled herself up the last bit of wall. She braced herself on her hands to look down the other side._

_Wirt wasn’t there. No one was._

_“W-where are you?” Something rustled bellow, “Hey, wait for me!”_

_“Beatrice! Don’t do it!”_

_Michael’s voice had reached its highest capability. He was wailing like a baby now, little fists banging on the wall. “You have to come home! Everyone’s waiting for you!”_

Yes, everyone was waiting for her. But what was it that Wirt had said? ‘ _Everything would seem perfect where you are now, but please just wake up.’_ All she needed to do was wake up.

 

_Her hands hurt from all the wounds she’d received, and they were starting burn like wounds she’d gotten from fire when she learned how to cook ages ago. The sickly sweet scent was growing stronger too, forcing itself up her nostrils and into her head to numb her brain._

_“Maybe I’ll see you again, sometime.” She heard the bitterness in his voice as he talked._

_And that was when Beatrice let go._

* * *

 

 

Her hands tightened their hold on his.

 


	2. Epilogue

“Hey, wait up Jason Funderburker!” I turned to look at the round little boy before jumping into the rushing river’s water. My eyes saw through the bubbles as the taller one grabbed his elbow before he could splash after me.

 

Everyone would say that I should just run away from the two humans if I stray from them at almost every opportunity. Of course, some would state that I never leave because I care for them. And while that may be true on some level, the reason is much simpler than that.

 

I was never like other ‘ _pets_ ’— as the humans like to call us – and I am tied to these boys by responsibility alone.

 

It has grown to something akin to love by this time, but responsibility has kept me at their side throughout most of their excursion into the Unknown. No one, except for the tall child, has ever questioned why a frog would almost drown when it us perfectly capable of swimming to safety.

 

I have repeated the same question in my head since that day exactly a year ago, and I have found what I think must be the answer. Everyone, no matter how old or young, needs someone to guide them.

 

“Where’s your frog?” The voice sends my thoughts to a screeching halt and I swim up to the surface.

 

A girl with fiery red hair is sitting at the grassy slope that leads to the river, her attention focused on the youngest brother as he talks. I have visited her months ago in a sanitized hospital room and remember her face well. But of course, even now her face seems unfamiliar after seeing her as bluebird most of the time.

 

She has changed much since then. The hair she tugs at is still uneven and short, and ugly red burn marks cover her arms.

 

But she does not cover them up. Even the large scar on her forehead that has just begun to heal is shown in what seems to be a proud fashion; which is strange, since scars are supposed to be covered up, at least in my opinion. I admit that I consider myself smarter than your usual frog, but humans have continued to surprise me at every turn.

 

I see the tall boy hovering at the river’s edge and I swim closer, letting him pull me up and into his arms.  

 

He walks over to the conversing duo and slumps onto the grass, a smile passing over his features. It wasn’t the first time he and his little brother have brought me here.

 

At first it was only the three of us, and they spoke of the Unknown like it was fairy tale that they had only read about and not experienced themselves. But then the girl managed to find her way out of the Unknown and they started bringing her along with them.

 

Their voices changed since then, the once usually hushed and whispered tales of the strange tavern and Adelaide of the Pasture changing into happy exclamations of the older boy’s success at playing the bassoon and of the girl Lorna. I would never admit it, but the girl has changed the two for the better.

 

“Oh, here’s your frog, Greg.”

 

“Thanks, Wirt!” Their exchange catches my attention and I look up.

 

A surprised croak escapes my wide green mouth just as the little boy plucks me up into his arms, shaking most of the water still clinging to my dangling legs.

 

The boy’s plump face comes into view. “Tsk, tsk, Jason Funderburker. You didn’t even wear your socks.”

 

With a rough tug, itchy woollen socks are pulled up to my knees.

 

They’re nothing compared to the clothes those high-society frogs wore, but the brothers had asked for these socks for my sake, and a smile reaches my own face. Smiling is hard to do when you’re a frog, and my kind usually smile at only the happiest moments of their lives. I have never been a fan of it myself, but I’m slowly getting used to doing on a daily basis.

 

My eyes catch the roiling blush that covers the older boy’s face before he manages to fight it away, his eyes on the red-headed girl. I sigh internally and look away.

 

The night is deepening. I look up to see swirling black and blue skies dotted with twinkling white stars.

 

“Beatrice?” The tall boy squeezes his eyes shut before leaning over to catch the girl’s eye.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Would you – I mean, I if you want to –”

 

A higher-pitched voice cuts him off. “Wirt wanted to invite you to see him play for the school’s marching band. He’s doing a solo clarinet perfro-pefro –” the word gets stuck in the little boy’s mouth.

 

“Performance,” the answer comes naturally to the older of the two, which is surprising since his skin has paled and his eyes are wide. He looks down at his younger brother before meeting the girl’s slightly baffled stare.

 

He winces and is about to apologize when the girl grins. “When are you performing?”

 

“What? U-um, next Thursday.”

 

“Better be good. I’m gonna bring my family.” The girl reaches around the little boy between them to elbow the older brother in the side. I don’t miss the blush she fights to keep hidden.

 

“Yay! Beatrice is coming!”

 

And so, I watch from the little boy’s lap as three lost souls find each other with kind words and light-hearted laughs. When I'm sure no one is looking, I allow myself one, froggy smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think of my take on Jason Funderburker’s inner thoughts? He seemed like a really deep character on the show, what with him singing about lovely lies and all.
> 
> This story happens exactly a year after Wirt and Greg almost drown in the river. I didn’t want to mention it at the beginning because it’s in a frog’s perspective, and Jason Funderburker wouldn’t know/care about what date it was. 
> 
> And yes, they’re wearing Halloween costumes, but I’ll leave that for you all to imagine. Beatrice doesn’t go to the same school as them, obviously, and probably attends some private school in Aberdale (I see this being totally cliche but whatever).
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked my little contribution to the otgw fandom. And you can be sure to expect more stories for this cartoon really soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Now, an explanation for those who can't understand my badly thought out logic for this fic:
> 
> Yes, Beatrice is from the same time as Wirt and Greg. I just figured because some inhabitants of the Unknown seemed to have stayed there for a long time, hence their change in clothing. And Beatrice talks in a really modern way too.
> 
> Beatrice’s family in the Unknown weren’t her real family. C’mon, the Unknown had talking animals; it can have a few fake families as well, right? 
> 
> The trail of tulips, the wall Beatrice climbs, the white flowers, the cuts she gets, and practically everything that happens to Beatrice was a sign of how she actually fought to regain consciousness. It was never shown how Greg and Wirt actually left the Unknown, so I made a really dramatic one for Beatrice to undergo. :D
> 
> Fun facts:
> 
> Aberdale is the town the show Clarence is set in. Almost everyone that watched OTGW knows that a scene shows the city Greg and Wirt lived in to look exactly like the city in Clarence, so I used its name because I think it adds a little bit of quirk into the story.
> 
> Beatrice’s last name was taken from her voice actor Melanie Lynskey, as well as her eldest sister’s first name. 
> 
> Oh, and this has an epilogue to follow up what happens after.


End file.
